


A Prime to build up

by BlushLouise



Series: A Prime for every purpose [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Pre-Fic, Gen, References to Major Character Death, the Matrix has no Prime, unexpected primacy, what now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: Optimus has been killed, and the Matrix hasn't chosen a new Prime yet. The Autobots are getting desperate, and at their wits' end, they decide that safekeeping the artifact will have to do for now.But the Matrix, it seems, has a will of its own. And maybe it can find what it's looking for in another faction...
Series: A Prime for every purpose [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697416
Comments: 60
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an idea by [Diem](https://twitter.com/DiemTF), who tweeted:  
>  _Concept: a Transformers story where Optimus Prime dies but none of the Autobots have any compatibility with the Matrix so they just carry it around. One day in the heat of battle a random Deceptigoon gets their hands on it..._  
>    
> _...and arises._
> 
> I took the idea and ran with it.

Prowl picked up the Matrix carefully. Turned it this way and that, catching the light. Feeling somewhat pretentious, he held it in both hands the way he’d seen Optimus do on more than one occasion.

Nothing happened.

“Sorry, Jazz,” he apologized. “It doesn’t seem to be me, either.”

“Damn.” Jazz sighed. “Then we’re down t’ Skyfire and the Protectobots, when they get back from that mission in Japan.”

“You think it’s one of them?”

“I hope it’s one of them. We don’t have a lot of options left.”

They didn’t. Short of going back to Cybertron and start waking mecha up from stasis. And they didn’t have the time or the resources for that, not with Megatron still hounding them every chance he got.

What a time to be missing a Prime. Prowl didn’t even enjoy running calculations these days. The outcomes were as far from favorable as he’d ever seen.

“No. We don’t.” But hopefully something would crop up. They could do with a bit of luck now.

It wasn’t one of the Protectobots. And Skyfire held the Matrix carefully in the palm of his hand, and shook his head. “Not me, Prowl. Sorry.”

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” Prowl replied, almost by rote. Skyfire wasn’t the first to apologize. He was their last hope, but it wasn’t his fault that the Matrix was being a... a…

“Damn thing’s bein’ an aft,” Jazz grumbled. “More picky ‘n Sunstreaker on a bad day.”

Yes. That.

“So,” Hot Spot asked, clearly unsure. “What now?”

Wasn’t that the question of the month.

“We’ll need t’ hold an officers meeting,” Jazz replied, taking Prowl by the elbow and turning him around. “Right now. C’mon, Prowler.”

Prowl came willingly. Faced with a determined Jazz, there wasn’t much else to do. But he wasn’t sure another meeting would solve anything.

He wouldn’t run the numbers for it. He was upset enough already.

The Matrix sat in the middle of the table like some form of fancy ornament. Prowl could certainly appreciate the irony of it, for all that he wished they’d never ended in this situation.

“So we’re fragged,” Ratchet said, to the point as always. “The Matrix doesn’t want any of us. It doesn’t want any of Ultra Magnus’ or Elita’s crews, either. What do we do now?”

“Melt it in a volcano,” Jazz grumbled, more snarky and annoying than usual. “Maybe Megatron’ll jump in after it.”

Prowl suspected Jazz had gotten rather too involved in Earth’s literature.

“We keep it safe,” he said, looking around at the others. It didn’t look like they liked it any more than he did, but he couldn’t see another option. “We keep it hidden, and hope.”

“Hide it where?” Ironhide asked. “Here, in the _Ark_? Under lock and key somewhere?”

“Absolutely not.” Red Alert shook his head sharply. “You know as well as I do that Soundwave takes anything that’s been put under lock and key on this ship as an invitation for his cassettes to break in and steal it. Anything we need to keep safe needs to be hidden in plain sight, and the Matrix isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

“What if we leave someone to guard it?” Perceptor asked, staring intently at the Matrix. He seemed intent to catalogue everything about it he could. “A permanent guard?”

Prowl shook his head. “We can’t afford to leave anyone on base permanently like that, not with Megatron being –“

“A first-degree slagger,” Jazz supplied.

“- irrational,” Prowl finished. “Besides, leaving the Matrix – _the Matrix_ – behind with just a couple of mecha to guard it seems risky to me.”

Red Alert nodded decisively.

“Well, there’s only one thing for it, then,” Wheeljack spoke up, helmfins blinking a muted blue.

“Oh?” Ratchet looked skeptical. “And that is?”

“Simple,” Wheeljack said. “Someone’s gonna to have to carry it around all the time.”

That was possibly the worst idea Prowl had ever heard.

* * *

Inferno’s hands shook as he held out his hands to take the artifact. “Why… why me?”

“Multiple reasons.” Prowl looked at the Matrix like it was a riddle he had to solve. “Because you’re strong enough to defend it. Because we can keep you out of the battles for the most part without the Decepticons growing suspicious. Because we have faith in you, Inferno.”

Well. If that didn’t make a mech feel humble.

“I’m – I’m honored, really.” He eased the Matrix into the subspace pocket that Wheeljack had installed on him earlier, in front of his left shoulder. Inferno wished Wheeljack had at least had the grace to warn him what it was for, and not just say it was ‘just in case’. “I’ll do my best.”

“We know you will, mech,” Jazz said with a grin. “Even so, don’t expect t’ be goin’ anywhere by your lonesome anytime soon.”

Inferno supposed that was a fair price to pay to keep the Matrix safe.

For a while, everything went well. Inferno stayed behind with Red Alert and Perceptor whenever the Autobots had to go counter the latest Decepticon ploy. Not that that meant he didn’t see any action. He fought off Ravage and Laserbeak on several occasions, put out a fire after something had sabotaged Teletraan-1, shot at Dirge when he did some form of strange distracting trick flying in front of the main entrance. He helped Wheeljack and Ratchet manufacture parts. Played ball with the Dinobots, whenever the Autobots were fighting in close city quarters and couldn’t bring the more volatile parts of their team. All the time, the Matrix was a hot weight safe inside its pocket.

Of course, nothing good could last forever.

“Megatron is holed up here,” Prowl said, pointing at the map of Lower Manhattan. “We don’t know where he got the nuclear weapons from, but we need to act as if they’re rigged to blow. Team A, you’re on this. You’ll come in from the north and east, cutting him off from the others if possible. I’ll take lead on this one.” He pulled up another map. “Team B, you’re in San Francisco. The humans have tentatively identified Starscream as the leader on this front. He’s following the same tactic, except that he’s piled the explosives on top of this building here.” He frowned. “They’ll still cause tremendous damage if they were to blow. And we can’t really count on Starscream to be rational, so be careful. Jazz is the lead on this attack.”

“Right,” Jazz said, clapping his hands together. “Priorities: help the humans evacuate, get those bombs disarmed, take down as many Decepticon slaggers as possible. Let’s get outta here.”

Inferno followed Cliffjumper and Bumblebee out of the Ark and onto a transformed Skyfire. He wasn’t nervous, not really, but he was apprehensive. And very far from comfortable going into battle while still guarding the Matrix.

“Don’t worry, ‘Ferno.” Bluestreak grinned. “Half the Decepticons are on the East coast. We’ll be fine.”

“Sure, yeah,” Inferno agreed. “We’ll be fine.” Hopefully.

He should have expected things to go to Pit with Starscream in charge of the Decepticons. Soundwave wasn’t there, thankfully, and neither were the Coneheads, but the Combaticons were, and the Constructicons, and if Inferno never saw the streets of San Francisco again he’d be absolutely fine with that. The humans weren’t running where they were supposed to, every road was a Primus-be-damned hill, and most of the Autobots had to stay in root mode because they simply couldn’t get past the crowds of humans and vehicles any other way.

“Inferno! Left up ahead!”

“Got it, Powerglide!”

Damn, he was not built to navigate these streets.

At least his target was easily acquired. It was Reflector, all three of them, terrorizing a group of humans that had been unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire. Now they were standing there and screaming, one brave man aiming a hand-gun at one Reflector component’s leg.

The bang was loud enough to cut through the chaos, but Reflector seemed to barely notice it.

So Inferno punched him.

“Get out of here!” he shouted at the humans, waving them on when they started moving. “Come on, get away!”

He didn’t get a chance to see if they’d listened before Reflector punched him right back. All three of them.

Inferno went down hard, turning around when he hit the ground and aiming a kick at the left Reflector’s knee. The crunch almost made him wince, but the other mech at least went down as well, leaving Inferno with only two opponents.

Right. Easy.

One elbow to the fallen Reflector mech, making sure he stayed down. Firing once, twice, three times at the second one, doing enough damage to drive him back a step. Aiming another punch at the third one, somehow getting lucky and cracking his chest glass.

Dodging a shot from the second one, and firing back.

Ducking away as shots slammed into the third one from above as Powerglide flew by.

“Frag,” he cursed, kicking the second one as he came back at him. “Why don’t you get down and stay down!”

“Frag you, Autobrat,” Reflector snarled. “Gonna tear you to pieces.”

The good thing about fighting Reflector was that they were smaller than him. Unfortunately, the bad thing about fighting Reflector was that they were smaller than him.

Their fingers tiny enough to slip into the gap between armor plates and _pull._

Half of Inferno’s shoulder plating was torn away, and he threw himself backward to get free. It was an instinctive movement, more gut reaction than anything else, which was probably why he didn’t see where he was going.

And why he slammed straight into the wall of the opposite building. The one Starscream was perched on top of, screaming like a particularly irate seagull. The one with all the explosives.

He barely had time to curse before the world blew up.

Waking up to orange was always a bit disorienting. Waking up in pieces, even more so. Inferno had the distinct not-pleasure of seeing his own detached leg on the next berth over, looking distinctly worse for wear. Wheeljack was working on it, but he didn’t actually seem to be making anything better.

“Oh, good, you’re back with us.” Ratchet sounded as annoyed as usual. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it this time, what with the amount of Inferno puzzle pieces we had to pick up all over the street.”

Inferno tried to sit up. Tried to raise his arm to the Matrix pocket on his abdomen. In reality, neither of those things happened.

“Ah. Yes. Perceptor says your arms will be done in a few days. As you see, we’re already working on your legs.” Ratchet grinned. It wasn’t a happy expression. “At least your torso was intact.”

“Ratchet, my shoulder,” Inferno said, not bothering to keep the urgency from his voice. “The Matrix, my left shoulder, it’s –“

“Gone, yeah,” Ratchet finished grimly. “Blaster and the cassettes are out searching for it. We’re sure the Decepticons don’t have it, because Megatron hasn’t called to gloat yet.” He put a reassuring hand on what was left of Inferno’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mech. We’ll find it. And, hey. This wasn’t your fault.”

Inferno was very sure it somehow was, though. But if Blaster and his cohort was already out searching, maybe this disaster could be salvaged yet. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, Ratchet.”

“Good.” Ratchet patted his shoulder again. “Now lie still, or we’ll never get the rest of you reattached.”

Inferno didn’t really feel he had a choice, armless and legless as he was. Still, he nodded. Making Ratchet angry was never a smart move.

Hopefully, by the time he was back on his feet, the Matrix would be back where it belonged.

* * *

Battles always left so much fun stuff behind. Broken shinies, tumbled from shop windows or people’s hands. Parts and bits of mechs, that he could clean up and trade to Hook for a decent price. Trinkets and baubles and lots of useful stuff.

Of course, battlefields also meant Swindle, digging around in the same piles of junk Scavenger was. He claimed to be hunting for different things, that he wasn’t interested in what he called ‘Scavenger’s junk’. Even so, Scavenger had caught Swindle making off with stuff from the haul that he himself had gathered, and sometimes he even snatched things right out of his fingers.

Slagging Swindle.

“Anything?” Thundercracker asked. He sounded bored. He looked bored, too, leaning against the one remaining wall and staring into the middle distance.

“Oh, plenty!” Swindle grinned that wide smile of his and tugged free a large piece of red plating. “Plenty to hoard, plenty to trade, plenty to keep a mech happy. Unless that mech is you, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thundercracker scoffed. “Get done already. Starscream wants us to report back.”

Swindle gave some form of cheerful reply. Scavenger didn’t catch the words.

He’d found something.

There was something shiny buried in the rubble, underneath layers of rock and concrete and broken glass. Something that glinted in gold and crystal.

Hurriedly, quietly, he covered whatever it was with dust and dirt. If Swindle noticed it, he’d take it from Scavenger for sure. And Scavenger had lost one too many trinkets to Swindle’s thieving fingers to tolerate any more. He’d have to wait until Swindle had left to dig it out.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. Swindle got to the edge of the opposite building and straightened into a stretch, before transforming and gunning his engine. “See you, losers!”

The good thing about picking over battlefields next to Swindle was that the mech had no patience for actual scavenging. Scavenger, logically enough, had. He could always outwait Swindle.

Carefully, he brushed the dirt away from the shiny trinket again. It was still partially buried, and it took shifting a few larger rocks to free one side. It looked like… a handle, a golden handle, the kind you’d find on a trophy.

Maybe it was a trophy of some sort. That would be cool. Scavenger liked trophies – they were shiny, often big, and best of all, the other Constructicons didn’t have any use for them, which meant he got to keep them.

Shifting a bit more rubble revealed the opposite handle. Clearly a trophy, then. Maybe he’d be able to lift it up now.

Scavenger grabbed one handle in each hand, and was promptly thrown on his aft.

_ARISE, ATTRACTOR PRIME._

What the actual frag, Scavenger thought, and then the world went dark.

It felt like he was out for hours, but it was only a second or two. Standing back up was hard – his frame didn’t work as he expected it to, and he had a hard time staying upright. Everything was off somehow. He almost went back on his knees before finally catching his balance, and then promptly lost it again when he looked down to see where the trophy had gone.

“Scavenger?”

Slag, he’d forgotten about Thundercracker. The mech wasn’t looking at him, still just staring downtown at the tall building where Starscream and the others had holed up.

“Yeah?”

“You ready to get out of here yet?”

He wasn’t, really. But he also was. Especially considering that he could barely move without almost falling over. Whatever was still left there wouldn’t be worth the talking-to he’d get from Hook if he somehow got himself all scratched up again.

“Yeah, sure. Let me just gather my stuff. I’ll – oh, frag.”

The ground wasn’t any more comfortable to crash into this time around. He at least had enough control of his arms to push himself back up.

“Scavenger?” Thundercracker sounded shocked. “Is that you?”

“Sure it’s me,” he groaned as he finally got to his feet again. “Who else would it be?”

“Well, you don’t look like you.” Thundercracker was suddenly there, right in front of him, doubt clear on his face. “You don’t look much like you _at all_.”

Scavenger frowned. He was looking down at Thundercracker, which was weird. “Did you shrink?”

“No, mech.” Thundercracker shook his head disbelievingly. “I think you grew. You’re wider than you were, too. Pit, mech, your treads are twice as wide as they were. You’re, like, Blitzwing-sized or something suddenly.”

Scavenger looked down at himself. The colors were familiar, though he seemed shinier somehow, like he’d spent all day in an oil pool and then splurged on premium polish afterward. And there were silver trims he’d certainly never seen before. His treads were massive, and his shovel was _huge,_ and –

“ _What the frag happened_?”

“Beats me.” Thundercracker sounded about as confused as Scavenger felt. “Does it… hurt anywhere?”

Scavenger frowned. “Not really. It’s just weird.” He rubbed his chest with one suddenly much larger hand. “My spark especially.”

“Your spark?” Thundercracker looked at his chest. It was right in front of his face now, with the new size difference. “Maybe Hook should look at it?”

“Maybe.” Hook wasn’t the kindest, though. And he’d most likely just say that whatever had happened was Scavenger’s own fault, and that his spark was fine.

Hopefully his spark was fine.

Primus, what if his spark wasn’t fine?

Maybe he should check before going back to the other Constructicons. Just in case.

Thundercracker looked even more shocked when Scavenger’s chest plates split apart right in front of him. And then he yelped.

“Primus! How in the Pit – Scavenger! What!”

There was no sense to be gathered from that. “What what?”

Instead of answering, Thundercracker took him by the arm and pulled him around, until he was facing the wall Thundercracker had been leaning against. Part of it was glass, miraculously surviving the blast by virtue of being bullet-proof, and Scavenger could see himself in it clear as day.

Well. He could see someone. Only Thundercracker reflected right next to him convinced him he was actually seeing himself.

The mech reflected in the glass was a good deal taller than Scavenger had been. And he looked… nobler, somehow. His face had changed, subtly – optics sharper, faceplate suddenly covering his entire lower face and much smoother than before. His kibble was different, too. He’d noticed the threads and the shovel, but the smaller things had changed too. The combination tab on his abdomen was now two tabs, running in parallel, making him look bigger and broader. And he was so _shiny_.

And there, behind the open chest, in front of his spark, was the trinket he’d thought was a trophy.

It wasn’t a trophy.

“Oh wow,” Thundercracker said faintly. “Now I think we really need to talk to Hook.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Scrap,” Hook said.

“That’s what I thought too,” Thundercracker agreed.

“Well, is it stuck in there?” Scrapper leaned uncomfortably close to Scavenger’s open chest plates, hand raised as if he meant to prod inside. “Or can we get it out somehow?”

“I don’t think it comes out unless it wants to.” Thundercracker shrugged, a little helplessly. “The Autobots certainly never took it out of Optimus. Well, not until Megatron turned him into so much junk. And then it just kind of… floated out on its own.”

“Can’t you just pull it out?” Bonecrusher asked. He was hanging back still, which Scavenger was supremely grateful for. He didn’t quite feel like being on the receiving end of Bonecrusher’s particular brand of care right now.

“You want to risk your hands, be my guest,” Hook sneered back at him. “ _My_ hands are precision instruments.” He pushed Scrapper aside and leaned closer, optics locked on Scavenger’s spark casing. “Hmm. No. It’s connected to you somehow. If we remove it now, we may well cause ourselves irreparable harm. Or you,” he added, as an afterthought.

“Well, thanks,” Scavenger snarked, closing his chest now that everyone seemed to be done gawking. “Now what?”

“Is it really the Matrix?” Mixmaster asked. “I mean, for sure?”

“It transformed Scavenger into that,” Thundercracker replied, waving a hand to indicate all of Scavenger’s new changes. “What else could it be?”

“Did it speak to you at all?” Scrapper still sounded intrigued. “Apparently Prime could talk to it.”

Scavenger shook his head, before nodding as the memory came back. “There was a voice. When I fell down the first time. It said “Arise, Attractor Prime.” I think.”

“A tractor?” Hook snorted. “Damn thing don’t even know you’re a power shovel?”

“ _Prime?_ ” Bonecrusher said, suddenly much closer and looking way too interested. “You’re an actual Prime now?”

“ _Att_ ractor,” Scavenger repeated, trying to pronounce it as clearly as possible. “It’s a weird name. And – I don’t know? The Matrix seems to think so?”

“Slag,” Long Haul said, shaking his head. “We’re fragged.”

Scavenger didn’t say it out loud, but he was inclined to agree.

* * *

Sometimes, Soundwave felt like he was the only competent mech in the entire Decepticon army. More often than not, it was unfortunately true. And in this particular instance, he would have liked nothing better than to hand the honor off to someone else.

Unfortunately, all the other Decepticons were idiots.

Starscream had bungled Megatron’s plan, as usual. The Coneheads had been taken down by the Autobots, as usual. Megatron himself had spent more time arguing and shouting than actually fighting, _as usual_ , and now it was apparently left to Soundwave to pick up the wayward pieces of Starscream’s San Francisco fiasco.

At least he wasn’t too far away. At least the flight was easy. At least the humans were still freaked out enough to stay away from where the bombs had gone off.

First order of the day was to track down Starscream’s wayward trinemates and get one of them to take command of the seekers while Starscream was waiting to be put back together. Second was to find wherever the Constructicons had sequestered themselves and drag them back to base, so that Starscream actually could be put back together and Megatron could get his favorite punching bag back. Third was to track the Combaticons down and get them to do what they were actually told for once.

Primus, what a mess. Soundwave could feel the mother of all processor aches pressing on.

Skywarp was AWOL, which wasn’t unusual. Starscream seemed to be sure that he wasn’t dead, and he hadn’t gotten himself trapped inside a wall or something either, so chances were he was either alive and living the good life somewhere, or bleeding out under a building. Both were equally likely, and at the moment Soundwave wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

But happily, at least for Starscream, Skywarp’s locator beacon gave a loud and clear response when Soundwave pinged it. Laserbeak and Ravage were dispatched, with orders to find Skywarp and see if it was possible to get him out of wherever he was stuck.

Thundercracker’s beacon went off too. After a moment, so did Scrapper’s, Long Haul’s, Mixmaster’s, Bonecrusher’s and Hook’s, all in the same place. Scavenger’s beacon stayed mysteriously silent.

Curious.

Soundwave changed direction mid-air and headed to their coordinates.

The beacons led him to a large warehouse. Soundwave landed lightly outside, and listened.

“… what to do,” an unfamiliar voice said. “I mean, Megatron won’t be happy.”

“Megatron definitely won’t be happy,” Thundercracker agreed. “You know he hates that thing. Pit, he hates Primes altogether.”

“I still say we should just rip it out,” Bonecrusher said. “Be done with it.”

“Sure,” Hook agreed. “And then you can be the one who explains to Megatron why Devastator’s a limb or two short all of a sudden.”

“We’re going to need to figure out what to do, and fast,” Scrapper said. “You know they’ll learn about it sooner or later.”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave said, pushing the door aside and striding in. “Later: now.”

Five Constructicons, one Seeker and one big unknown mech stared at him, in various states of surprise and dismay. Soundwave stopped in front of them, turning his head to meet every gaze head-on. “Absence: noticed. Explanation: required.”

As one, all of them turned to look at the big stranger. Who looked weirdly familiar, now that Soundwave had the chance to take a closer look. Even down to the way he wrung his hands and shuffled in place. Soundwave couldn’t get a read on his mind, which was strange in and of itself, but even so, he had a funny feeling he knew this mech.

“State designation.”

Hook grinned. It wasn’t a pretty look. “Soundwave, meet Attractor Prime.”

“No!” the stranger squealed, raising his hands. “Don’t tell him that!”

There was something familiar about the voice, too. Soundwave took a step closer. “Designation.”

“… Scavenger,” the mech sighed finally. “I’m Scavenger. I just – don’t look much like me anymore.”

Soundwave was suddenly very grateful that his mask and visor hid his expression. “Explanation: insufficient.”

“Show him, Scav.” That was Scrapper, sounding resigned. “He won’t get it, otherwise.”

In front of Soundwave’s face, the stranger’s – Scavenger’s – chest plates cracked open and slid aside.

For a few moments, nobody spoke.

“I found it buried in the rubble,” Scavenger said apologetically. “I didn’t know what it was, at first. When I tried to pick it up, this happened.”

Soundwave took a moment to make sure he had his voice modulators still activated before turning to Hook. “Primal designation.”

“Attractor. Don’t know what the slag it’s supposed to mean.” Hook shrugged. “Ain’t much we can do about it, either. The thing’s good and stuck in there.”

“What do we do?” Scrapper asked, optics on Soundwave. “We can’t bring this back to Megatron. He hates the Primacy. I don’t think he’ll take kindly to Scav suddenly being one.”

“Assumption: correct.” Soundwave very carefully didn’t sigh. “Return to Megatron: unwise. Required: new plans.” He looked at Bonecrusher and Hook. “Task: locate Skywarp. Execute repairs and order back to base. Return here after.” He walked closer to Scavenger until the big mech started backing up, only stopping when he hit the wall. “Full story: required. Scrapper: discuss plans.”

“Yeah, okay,” Scrapper agreed. “Though if you can see a way out of this mess, I’m all audials.”

Soundwave didn’t doubt that. But even he wasn’t sure what to do with this one.

Planning, as expected, was easier said than done. It didn’t help that Bonecrusher returned alone after a few hours, dusty and gritty and annoyed, claiming that Skywarp had teleported away with Hook still elbows-deep in his chassis. Hook was grumbling over the gestalt bond, apparently, but Megatron hadn’t caught on to his return yet. Skywarp had brought him straight to Starscream’s quarters, to offer the other Seeker some much needed repairs.

Soundwave gritted his teeth against the processor ache that threatened to become permanent, yet again grateful that his expression was hidden. “Thundercracker.”

“Yes?” Thundercracker looked apprehensive, as well he should. Soundwave wasn’t quite sure who to blame for this mess, and everyone knew it. As far as they knew, it was open season on volunteers.

“Explain likelihood of Skywarp: loyal to Megatron.”

The Seeker pursed his lips. “Skywarp’s actually really fond of him, for some reason. I don’t think you can convince him away, not without bending his arm a lot, or if it’s in the trine’s best interest to be away. Starscream isn’t loyal to Megatron, but he’d fight like crazy for the Decepticon cause.”

As suspected. Though for once supremely unhelpful. “Expectation of Skywarp: returning Hook here?”

“That’s more probable. He knows who it is who fixes us when we need it. He won’t piss off Hook, not if he can avoid it.” He shuddered. “Hook knows how to detach wings.”

“What are you thinking, Soundwave?” Scrapper asked slowly.

“He’s thinking we can’t go back to Megatron,” Scavenger – Attractor – said, sounding resigned. “Megatron won’t value us higher than the chance to get rid of the Primacy forever. He’s got two other gestalts, and the Autobots are lost without a Prime.”

“So we strike out on our own,” Long Haul said. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we need to defeat the Autobots here to get at what we were fighting for in the first place. Shockwave has control of Cybertron, we can go home!”

“Shockwave is Megatron’s lapdog,” Scrapper replied darkly. “We go anywhere near Cybertron, we’ll be sent back to Megatron before we have the chance to come up with a plan.”

Scavenger sighed. “I wish I’d never found the thing. I should have let Swindle have it.”

Thundercracker snorted. “Swindle would sell it on the black market. It’s better off with you, really. Even though you won’t hear me calling you Prime any time soon.”

“Yeah, no, don’t do that.” Scavenger grinned. “I don’t feel like a Prime at all. I just feel like me.”

“So where will we go, then, if Cybertron’s off the table?” Mixmaster asked. He’d been relatively quiet so far, mainly preoccupied with staring at Attractor’s chest, and Soundwave was honestly scared to delve too far into his mind at this point. It didn’t strike him as a safe space.

“Elsewhere.” Long Haul shrugged. “It’s not like Cybertron – or Earth, for that matter – is the only planet in the galaxy.”

“Or we can hide out on Earth,” Scavenger suggested. “I mean, we already know this place. It can’t be that hard to stay off Megatron’s radar.”

“Fuel: difficult to come by,” Soundwave pointed out. “Constructicons: better off off-planet.”

“Ugh, yeah, I don’t want to starve,” Bonecrusher grumbled. “Even going down against the Autobots is better than starving again.”

Hook chose that moment to return, drying energon up to his elbows, a sneer on his face. He pointed at Thundercracker as he walked in. “That trinemate of yours is a menace.”

“They both are,” Thundercracker agreed.

Now that all the wayward mechs were back together, Soundwave decided he’d had quite enough of them all for one day. For several days, even. “Constructicons: decide,” he intoned. “Plans: necessary.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bonecrusher grumbled. He offered Soundwave a cold stare. “Will you keep quiet about this?”

“Soundwave: discreet,” Soundwave replied. What Megatron didn’t know wouldn’t harm him. More to the point, what Megatron didn’t know wouldn’t harm Soundwave. “Will return in two days’ time.”

He didn’t listen for their goodbyes, simply walked away and activated his antigravs. He’d need the flight back to base to come up with something useful.

* * *

Scavenger wished that the Matrix had come with some form of wisdom. Like a go-to guide for difficult situations or something. Because being Prime had come with a slew of difficult situations just in the last few days, and he didn’t feel any wiser than he had when he’d still been himself.

He certainly didn’t feel wise enough to come up with a viable idea.

Thundercracker had left them finally, going back to base to apparently ‘keep Sky and Star out of trouble’. Scavenger rather thought that was a tall order for one solitary Seeker, but maybe Thundercracker had a knack for the task. It had left the Constructicons by themselves, which was both appreciated and not.

“I miss wash racks,” Hook grumbled. “I think I’ve got dust in places that are supposed to be sealed off.”

“I miss fuel,” Bonecrusher said morosely. “Proper fuel, not this ruddy carbon-based slag.”

Scavenger missed his berth. Not that he’d fit on it anymore. “We go back, Megatron will kill me,” he pointed out. “Is that what you want?”

“I’m sure we could fight him off,” Bonecrusher argued back, his short fuse apparent in his tone.

“Yeah, sure.” Scrapper scoffed. “Him and Menasor and Astrotrain and Blitzwing and the Insecticons and the Seekers. Yeah, sure we can fight them off.”

“Well, it’s better than starving,” Long Haul muttered.

Scavenger knew he didn’t mean it, though. Not really. He could feel it in his spark. The Matrix pulsed at him, seeming almost smug, and Scavenger grumbled internally at the damn thing.

“Besides, we don’t even know if we can combine anymore,” Scrapper continued. “Scav’s so big now, he’ll throw Devastator’s center of balance off.”

“We could try,” Mixmaster suggested. “It’s not like we have anything better to do right now. And it would be good to know, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Scrapper conceded. “Alright then. Constructicons – transform and combine into Devastator.”

Scavenger thought that was the most lackluster call to combine he’d heard in his entire existence.

Still, he transformed. Combining was always both a battle and a thrill, a combination of wills butting against each other and slotting into each other and finally forming a greater whole, and he usually relished in the closeness he found with the others when they were combined.

This time was different.

There was a seventh will, encompassing all of them.

The moment Scavenger slotted into his place as Devastator’s right arm, the Matrix flared to life. Intent flowed – for lack of a better word – from the artifact, through Scavenger and into Hook and from there to the rest of Devastator, and suddenly they could see everything with such clarity it was almost terrifying.

“No,” Devastator grunted. The part of him that was Scavenger keened silently in agony. “No. Everything. Destroyed everything.” He walked forward, arms raised to rub at his own optics, crashed into the wall. “No! Dead! We cannot – _stop hurting Devastator!_ ” But the power continued, pushing and controlling, until Devastator fell to his knees and _roared_.

A moment later, he collapsed in on himself.

Scavenger disentangled his legs from Long Haul’s and sat up. His helm ached something fierce, and he couldn’t seem to banish the visions the Matrix had left behind. He still felt more Devastator than individual.

“No,” Bonecrusher moaned, curling up where he had fallen. “How could we –“

“- we do that?” Hook continued, his voice more a keen than anything else. “We’ve ruined –“

“- ruined everything. Everything.” There were actual tears in Mixmaster’s optics. “We’re builders. When did we –“

“- we become destroyers?” Scrapper finished, staring wide-opticked up at the ceiling. “Cybertron is in ruins, and we squabble our lives and existences away on an alien planet.” He sat up, looked around at the others. “We have to rebuild. We have to go home.”

“We have to rebuild,” Long Haul echoed fervently.

“We have to go home,” Scavenger agreed. His helm still pounded, but he knew what to do know. He could see a way forward. The Matrix pulsed insistently in his chest. “I know what to do next.”


	3. Chapter 3

Soundwave was more than a little apprehensive as he approached the warehouse the Constructicons had holed up in. He’d barely been able to get away from base – Megatron was still in an uproar, Starscream hadn’t come out of his quarters and was technically still damaged, and the Combaticons were still AWOL. It was a bad time to be the only Decepticon with a whit of sense.

::You didn’t have to take on this as well,:: Ravage commented from near Soundwave’ pedes. ::Scavenger got himself into this, he can get himself out.::

“Scavenger’s change: unintentional,” Soundwave pointed out. “Change: possibly beneficial.”

Ravage snorted. ::To whom? The Decepticons? The Constructicons? You? Tell me, Soundwave, do you have a plan?::

Soundwave didn’t dignify that with an answer. Besides, Ravage knew full well that he didn’t.

He didn’t knock this time either. If anything was secret in there, it was best he knew about it upfront.

The space hadn’t changed. But the Constructicons had.

Oh, not visibly. Not like Scavenger had when he first picked up the Matrix. But there was a new peace to them, a determination, that he hadn’t seen since…

Well, those were some ancient memories.

He nodded at Scavenger. “Attractor Prime.”

“Hello, Soundwave.” There was a calm to the way Attractor spoke, too. He sounded more Primely, though Soundwave would admit to the strangeness of such a statement. “Welcome back. I wasn’t sure we’d see you, but I’m glad you’ve returned.”

“Soundwave: seeks understanding,” Soundwave replied, wordlessly encouraging Ravage to keep guard. It wouldn’t do to be disturbed here. “Constructions’ plan: ready?”

“Somewhat.” Scrapper handed him an energon cube, and Soundwave didn’t question where they’d gotten it. Or how they’d managed to do the repairs that were evident around the building. Some things were better not known, because then he could deny accountability. Besides, the Constructicons had a gift of finding the materials they needed for projects.

“Query: somewhat?”

“Somewhat because we know our goal, the Matrix’ goal, but not how to get there.” Hook’s glance was as sharp as ever. “We’re not going back to Megatron, Soundwave. We’re not going back to fighting.”

Soundwave considered that for a moment. It was a bit of a risk, telling him, considering he could be in direct contact with Megatron at that very moment. But then again, Devastator could take Soundwave apart without much trouble. Maybe they thought it was worth taking a chance. “Query: reason?”

“We’re tired of tearing down.” Long Haul lowered a steel beam in front of Hook, pointing out a weak weld. “It’s not what we signed up for. Not once the Senate was taken out.”

“We’re driving ourselves to extinction,” Scrapper continued. “And that’s not a goal worth pursuing.”

There really was something different about all of them. It was in the way they spoke, how they moved. It all reminded him eerily of… of…

Optimus.

Well, slag.

“Soundwave: understands. Megatron’s goal: currently undefined.” He considered for a moment, wondering how much to say. But in the end, he was face to face with a Prime. A Decepticon Prime, at that. Things could not continue how they had been. “Megatron: driven by personal hatred. Objective: gone. Megatron: floundering.”

Attractor nodded. “Sounds accurate. Tell me, Soundwave, what’s _your_ goal?”

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?

“Soundwave: loyal to Decepticon cause.”

“Decepticon cause.” Scrapper looked at him, clearly considering. “Not Megatron.”

“Megatron: possibly out of sync with Decepticon cause.” There, that was as close to treason as he was willing to get right now. “Query: Constructicons’ goal?”

Mixmaster smiled. It had a grim cast to it. “Why, Soundwave, we mean to end the war. And Megatron can help us, or he can get in the way.”

“Help: unlikely,” Soundwave felt forced to point out. “Peace: not Megatron’s forte.”

“You’re telling us.” Bonecrusher snorted. “What about you, Soundwave? Will you help us, or will you get in the way?”

That wasn’t a choice at all, really. The Constructicons leaving Megatron’s side would disrupt the power balance, especially since the Combaticons were gone as well. The Autobots were frightfully efficient, even without Optimus to lead them, and though there were a lot of adjectives that could be used about the Decepticon army, efficient was not one of them.

No, he didn’t have a choice in this. Not if he wanted to get out of this with his plating and his cassettes intact. “Soundwave: will help.”

* * *

Attractor watched as Soundwave hooked up their jury-rigged communications equipment. They’d done their best with what was available to them, but none of them were good at this kind of thing, and Soundwave was arguably the best communications mech in existence. It was a good thing he’d decided to come back. Everything would have taken much longer without him.

“System: ready,” Soundwave said finally, stepping back. “Connection to Autobot base: secure.”

“Thanks, Soundwave.” Attractor nodded at him. In his chest, the Matrix was a continuously pulsing beacon. “Let’s get this done, shall we?” He stepped up in front of the console, feeling more than seeing the rest of the Constructicons form up behind him. Even Soundwave stayed close. “Call them, Soundwave.”

It didn’t take long for the call to connect. The face on-screen was familiar, in as much as any Autobot was familiar at this point, and Scavenger inclined his head at Huffer. “Hi. I’d like to talk to Prowl, he around?”

Huffer looked suspicious. “Who’re you? Where’s Megatron?”

Attractor shrugged. “Back at base, I guess? I don’t really care. Is Prowl there?”

“I’m not putting him on with a bunch of ‘Cons without good reason,” Huffer growled. “State your designation.”

Oh, this would be interesting. “My designation?” Attractor grinned, not that Huffer could see it. “My designation is Attractor Prime.” He let Huffer sputter in disbelief for a moment before continuing. “Now can I talk to Prowl?”

It didn’t take too long before the call was put through to Autobot command. Not just Prowl, but everyone. Jazz was there, looking torn between laughing and frowning. Ironhide _was_ frowning. Ratchet looked mainly calculating, Wheeljack surprised. Perceptor hadn’t even looked at the screen yet.

“Alright, you have our attention,” Prowl said finally. “What do you want?”

“To offer you a chance,” Attractor replied. “To end this.”

“End what?” Jazz finally settled on a frown. “Can ya negotiate on behalf of Megatron?”

“Megatron’s irrelevant right now.” Hopefully, it would stay that way. “I’m negotiating on behalf of myself and the mecha you see here.”

“Are you really carrying the Matrix?” Ratchet asked, clearly interrupting whatever Prowl was going to say next. “Can you show us?”

They’d anticipated that request. He let his chest-plates part. “I found it in the rubble. It changed me the moment I picked it up. One moment I’m Scavenger, the next…”

“A Prime,” Ratchet agreed, leaning close to the screen. “From what I can see, there’s no doubt.”

“Will you meet up, so we can make sure?” Prowl asked.

“Not without some form of guarantee of safe conduct,” Attractor replied, closing his chest-plates again. “I know you want the Matrix back, and I’m not risking our safety on the chance that you won’t try to pry it out of my cold frame.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Ironhide grumbled. “What do ya want?”

Time to put them to the test. “I’m offering you the Matrix. Provided you accept me and my mecha with it.”

The Autobots froze. So did Soundwave, for that matter – he clearly hadn’t expected being included quite that far.

“What,” Jazz said finally.

“You’re Autobots,” Attractor said. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? That’s the thing about Autobots, that you follow the Prime?

“Yeees,” Prowl said slowly. He seemed to know where this was going, and was clearly not too happy with it.

“Then follow me.” Attractor made his voice as sure as he could. “We will join our forces to yours, and together we will end this.”

“I ain’t following no ‘Con,” Ironhide snarled.

“I’m Prime,” Attractor countered. “A true Prime, chosen by the Matrix, just like Optimus was. Whatever you choose to do, I’m not going back to Megatron. I can join forces with the Autobots, or I can take my mecha elsewhere. The choice is yours.”

He nodded at Soundwave, and the connection was cut.

* * *

Prowl wished Optimus had lived. He usually wished Optimus had lived, but he’d never wished it quite this fervently.

“It’s a trick,” Ironhide insisted. “Has to be.”

Ratchet was shaking his head before Ironhide had even finished speaking. “No. That was the Matrix. It has bonded with his systems, same as it did with Optimus. I’d like to examine him personally to make absolutely sure, but I’m confident in saying he’s telling the truth.”

“As am I,” Prowl sighed. “Much as I don’t want to be.”

“What’ll we do, Prowler?” Jazz sounded as serious as Prowl had ever heard him. “Are we takin’em up on that offer?”

“He’s not wrong, you know,” Wheeljack mused. “Autobots follow the Prime.”

“But the Prime is a Decepticon,” Perceptor replied. “It makes for an interesting juxtaposition, that’s certainly true.”

“The Matrix predates the factions.” Ratchet shook his head. “Him being a Decepticon doesn’t actually matter. And you heard him – they’re leaving Megatron anyway. Question is, do we take our chances that the Constructicons –“

“- and Soundwave,” Ironhide added darkly.

“- and Soundwave,” Ratchet agreed, “are genuine in this? Or do we let them leave with the Matrix?”

Put like that, Prowl realized, there really wasn’t a choice at all.

They met Attractor Prime for the first time on a field a few hours outside San Francisco. Half the Autobots were still back at the _Ark_ , keeping an eye out for Megatron and the rest of the Decepticons, but they were still a sizable contingent. Even surrounded by Autobots, though, Prowl felt on edge.

“Calm down, Prowler,” Jazz murmured. “It’ll be okay.”

Prowl deliberately relaxed his stance. “I’ll try.”

Across the field, Attractor Prime approached. He was followed by the rest of the Constructicons, Soundwave, and curiously enough Thundercracker. They all stopped a little way in, letting Attractor walk on alone.

Prowl moved as well, Jazz, Ironhide and Ratchet next to him. They stayed with him to the center of the field, which didn’t seem to faze Attractor at all – not that it was easy to tell what he was feeling, with that mask and visor.

As soon as they were close enough, Attractor’s chest-plates split apart. “For your peace of mind, medic.”

“Not _my_ peace of mind,” Ratchet replied absently, leaning closer and gazing into the brightness of Attractor’s chest. “But for some, sure, this will help. There’s no doubt, Prowl.” He took a step back. “He is what he says he is.”

“Fine, then.” Prowl looked up at Attractor. Even as strange as it was to have a Decepticon so close, there was an air of familiarity around this Prime. It was almost soothing. “What would you have us do?”

“I would have us join forces,” Attractor replied. “I’m tired of fighting. We’ve done nothing but destroy everything we touch for the last few millennia, and we’re done. We want to end this, go home to Cybertron and rebuild. Together.” He paused for a moment, hesitant, and then held out his hand. “Join with me?”

Prowl considered for a moment. But he’d known what the outcome would be of this meeting before they’d even left.

He clasped Attractor’s bigger hand firmly. “We will.”

It was both a familiar and unfamiliar situation, standing next to the Prime and getting ready to raise Megatron on the comm system. Familiar because Prowl had done this before, numerous times even – he knew what Blaster would say when the call came through, he knew the sneer Megatron would be wearing, he knew the reassuring calm that the Matrix lent to the mech next to him. But unfamiliar because this was a new mech, purple and green instead of reassuring red and blue, different voice, different frame, different allegiance.

For all that though, he felt calmer than he had since they’d lost Optimus. Several days of intense negotiation had revealed that Attractor and the rest of his gestalt had good ideas, and Soundwave was actually turning out to be a reassuring fount of competency that Prowl was learning to appreciate. It was nice, having another rational mech around.

“Connecting now, Prime,” Blaster said, as expected. Prowl braced for the moment when Megatron would answer and pick up on what had been happening. So far they’d managed to keep the Decepticon faction in the dark, but that would end now.

“Prowl! What is the meaning of – who in the Pit are you?” Megatron wore his familiar sneer, Starscream looking beaten and battered at his shoulder. “What trickery is this?”

“No trickery, Megatron,” Attractor said calmly. “I am Attractor Prime. On behalf of the combined Cybertronian faction, I’m offering you a chance to surrender and end the war.”

Megatron stared. Then he roared. “WHAT! There are no more Primes! I killed the last one!” He looked around wildly, and Starscream flinched back. “Soundwave!”

“Here, Lord Megatron,” Soundwave replied, stepping in next to the Prime.

Prowl suspected he would cherish the memory of Megatron’s confused face as Soundwave appeared in the wrong base for eons to come.

“Soundwave! What is the meaning of this!”

“Soundwave: defected to combined Cybertronian faction,” Soundwave replied calmly, though Prowl could see the minute tremble in his hands. “Suggestion: surrender.”

“No harm shall be brought to any who surrenders,” Attractor said, still calmer than Prowl felt Megatron deserved. “Soundwave is making the offer known to all the Decepticons as we speak.”

Thundercracker shouldered in, pushing Soundwave aside. “Star. It’s true.”

Skywarp’s head popped up behind Starscream’s shoulder. His optics were wide. “TC! What the frag!”

“SILENCE!” Megatron roared. “Scavenger, your life is forfeit, as are the lives of those who support you! I will show no mercy!”

Prowl had just enough time to see Skywarp grab Starscream and teleport out. Then Megatron raised his fusion cannon and fired, and the screen went black.

Attractor turned to Prowl. “Well! That went better than I expected,” he said happily.

“I dread to ask what you’d expected,” Prowl replied, tone as dry as he could make it.

“Reflector: defecting,” Soundwave said suddenly. “Safe passage: requested.”

Ironhide grinned. “I’ll go meet them. Send me the coordinates.”

A sudden vop heralded Skywarp’s arrival, a screeching Starscream still clutched in his arms. A leaking, screeching Starscream.

Prowl sighed and resisted pinching his nasal ridge. “Thundercracker, take them to Ratchet if you please. And have Skywarp explain how he knew to warp straight into the command center.”

“Yessir.” Thundercracker grabbed his trinemates and pulled them along.

Prowl stood completely still for a moment, bracing for whatever would happen next. When the world stayed calm, he dared to turn back to Attractor and Soundwave. “What next?”

“Next, we ask the Coneheads to defect.” Attractor still sounded like he thought this was a minor problem. “Astrotrain and Blitzwing can be a bit tricky, but if we promise them fuel they’ll come over as well. And I think we can come up with plans for the rest, don’t you?” He beamed happily at Prowl and patted his shoulder before heading over to where the rest of the Constructicons were milling about.

Prowl glanced at Soundwave. “Why do I get the feeling that my processor ache’s going to be a permanent fixture from now on?”

Soundwave nodded solemnly. “Prowl: now one of two sensible mechs in the combined Cybertronian faction.” He inclined his head slightly. “Congratulations.”

Prowl couldn’t help it. He laughed and laughed until tears started streaming down his face and Jazz came up, all worried, to ask if he was okay.

He waved him off. “I’ll be okay.” He smiled. “We’ll be okay.”

For the first time since Optimus had died, he really believed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a blast to write :D I have other ideas I'd love to work with for this concept, so hopefully I'll be adding to the series in time!


End file.
